


DeadHitler One Shots

by Scourgefan12



Category: Slender Man Mythos, Tribe Twelve
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-12
Updated: 2018-10-26
Packaged: 2018-12-26 23:21:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12069039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Scourgefan12/pseuds/Scourgefan12
Summary: A story specifically for one off chapters about the Most Canon Slenderverse Ship there isHonestly, I made this so that I don't have to clutter my serious stories with this ship(Although one could argue that my writings for this are the most serious of them all)





	1. Guy Of My Dreams

He's been dead for over a century. Technically I have been too, but as a Collective member, I've been forced to stay kind of alive. I still miss him so much. It doesn't get easier. I loved him. I never told him, but I loved him so much, I still do. He was so important to me, to this day he's probably still the most influential person in my life.

He was an incredible person, amazing in every way. It's hard for me to think of any real flaws he had. In my eyes, he was perfect. He did so much good, caused so many great things to happen. It all came from a good place too, he had good intentions the whole time. He was just trying to help, everything he did was to help his country and his people.

A lot of people think he was a bad person. They're wrong, they have no idea what they're talking about. They're invalids, stupid. They didn't know him. None of them knew him personally, like I did. Even if you think what he did was wrong, which it wasn't, you can't deny the good intentions behind it all. And if you try to, then you're even dumber than I thought. Ignoring facts so you can keep believing your own ideology. Disgusting.

I think about him every day. He's on my mind probably more often than what would be considered healthy, not that I care. Thinking of him helps, in a way. At least I think it does, I'm not actually sure. Either way, I prefer it this way. I'd much rather keep thinking about him and cause myself potential harm than forget about him. When I put it like that, it actually sounds extremely unhealthy. I wish I could say I care.

Most people would have moved on by now, given an actual century most people probably wouldn't even remember a passed loved one. I can't bring myself to move on though. What can I say, he was too great. I really did love him. I really wish I'd told him when he was still here. He deserved to know. I like to think that on some level he did know. I like to think that he felt the same way too. Maybe he didn't feel as strongly, but it helps to think that the feelings were there. Are there perhaps.

I've never been the biggest believer in the afterlife. I never really was strictly against the idea, just never saw reason to believe in it. Until recently, that is.

Sometimes I see him in my dreams. It isn't often, and it normally doesn't last long, but it happens. Now, this could easily be chalked up to them just being dreams, and me seeing what I want to see in said dreams. I don't think it's that simple though, I don't want to think it's that simple. If they were really just dreams, then why had they only started recently? Logically, if they really were just dreams, my subconscious trying to help me feel better, you'd think they would have started a while ago, when the pain of losing him was still fresh. And when I see him it seems so real, he seems so real. Too real for a dream to be able to replicate.

It might be wishful thinking, but I feel like this is actually him, visiting me from beyond the grave, in the only way he can. It seems too real, too close to the actual thing. I refuse to believe it's actually just dreams.

I've started sleeping more, in hopes of seeing him more often. It doesn't work as well as I'd hope, I don't see him every time I sleep, it's actually a rare occurrence. Still, it occasionally does work. Sometimes I'm lucky enough to be able to see him. I love being able to see him, it's like making up for all the time we didn't spend together when we were alive.

One thing I love about our meetings is that I never know what to expect. Sometimes we'll have long, deep talks. Sometimes we'll just be messing around, and have a really lighthearted time. Sometimes we'll have really romantic interactions, kind of like dates in a way. Sometimes we'll have rather heated interactions, these normally happen after the romantic interactions when they do occur.

Point is, every time we meet up, I'm in for a surprise. It's great.

Each time we meet up, I wake up feeling better, happier. It brightens my whole day. I end up thinking of whatever conversation we ended up having throughout the day, playing it over in my head. When we go a while without seeing each other, I think over old interactions. It helps me wait, as well as giving me something to look forward to.

Currently, I'm thinking of our most recent meet up. It's definitely my favorite so far. Call me emotional, but I can almost feel tears coming to my eyes at the memory.

I'll spare the details, mostly because I don't really want anyone else to know them. This is my thing, it's not for other people to know. That and I don't want to deal with someone seeing the details and deciding that I'm a delusional fuck, I just don't feel like dealing with that sort of thing.

Anyway, the only real important things about it are that it was one of the romantic meet ups. It mostly consisted of us lying atop the watchtower together, looking up at the pitch void that serves as the sky here. We were holding hands, trading compliments every so often. Then it happened.

What is it exactly? Well, only the best moment of my life.

I can almost still feel the way his hand tightened around mine, the way I could feel him press against me ever so slightly as he moved closer.

"Deadhead?" He addressed me by my Collective name rather than my real one, he always had, ever since the first meeting we had. I'm not sure either of us really remember my real name anyway, so it didn't faze me at all.

I turned to him, acknowledging his presence, as well as giving him my attention, encouraging him to continue.

"I love you."

As soon as the words passed his lips, I felt my heart soar. I'm not ashamed to admit that I cried a little. Before I had the chance to respond though, I woke up.

I was left lying there, kind of stunned. I was kind of disappointed that I didn't get to say it back, especially considering I had been waiting nearly my whole life to say that sentence to him.

I was still unbelievably happy to have heard the words from him. I figured there was always next time. Next time I'd tell him, I'd let him know that the feelings were most certainly mutual.

For now though, I sat up. I held my hand to my chest, finding that my heart was beating incredibly fast. I whispered to myself, although I wouldn't be too surprised if he ended up hearing it. "I love you too, Adolf."


	2. Valentine Memories

It was currently February fourteenth, Valentines day. Or at least it probably was. There was no way to tell time in the Collective realm, so there was no way to be sure, but that's what day it felt like. For most members, this day meant jack shit. Who cared if it was Valentines day or not? It wasn't like any of them celebrated that day anyway, it was a human thing, and none of them were human. Even the members who had previously been human before getting assimilated couldn't muster up any care for the day.

 

There was only one member who gave this holiday any mind, and it was Deadhead. Normally with human holidays he didn't care, because with the others he didn't have any reason to. Although unlike the others, he had special memories about Valentines day. Memories from back when he was human. Technically none of them actually happened on the holiday, but this holiday made them more relevant. It was the day that let him recall these memories and relive them in detail. Really, it was the one day of the year he bothered thinking about them at all. It never really occurred to him to think about them any other day, honestly. One day was all he needed.

 

These memories were ones that brought him great joy. They were memories of the boyfriend he'd had back when he was still alive.

 

Okay technically the guy hadn't been his boyfriend, they never really got together, but Deadhead had really liked the guy, and he was fairly sure that the feelings were mutual. It had just never occurred to either of them to get together, there hadn't been enough time for that sort of thing. There had been a war going on and they'd had other things to concentrate on.

 

Ah yes, the war. World War Two. That had been how they'd met. Deadhead had been drafted, forced to fight. At first this had upset him, he hadn't wanted to leave his life behind. He'd had a family and everything. Although he supposed it was for the best, the country had to be protected after all, and he was quite skilled in combat even before the military training. So, even though he wasn't too happy about the situation, he had accepted it and made the best of it. It wasn't until he met his superior, the leader of their army, that he actually started enjoying himself.

 

He found himself smiling as he remembered more. Yeah, Adolf Hitler had been a really cool guy. Deadhead was smitten with him since he first saw the guy. They'd first encountered one another at one of Adolf's speeches. Deadhead had been taken aback by the sheer passion and intellect the other man had expressed. He'd never seen anything like it. It was beautiful. Yeah, the not yet Collective member hadn't agreed with all of Hitler's ideas, but they all came from good intentions, and he really respected that.

 

He never really interacted with their leader one on one, but he hadn't needed to. Being given orders in groups and watching the other man work had been all he needed. After a short amount of time he fell, and he fell hard. What could he say? Hitler was a really charismatic guy. Hell, over half the other soldiers there probably felt the same way. Their feelings, however, weren't reciprocated. Deadhead could tell. He could tell from the way Hitler looked at them, and from the way he looked at him. Well, maybe he had interpreted things kind of wrong due to wishful thinking, but who cares?

 

Another reason Deadhead was sure that his feelings were mutual was due to the fact that he just so happened to always be given the best assignments and missions. There was hardly a thing he was made to do that he didn't enjoy. That couldn't have been a coincidence. Their leader had definitely took note of what assignments he enjoyed the most and made sure he got something good. That had to have been it.

 

Deadhead, in the current moment, felt his face, or skull rather, heat up. Hitler had been so thoughtful. Most people would deny such a statement, saying that he was delusional. They just didn't get it though. They hadn't known the guy. They hadn't seen him in action. He really had been very considerate and nice. I mean yeah, he had killed a few million people and all, but it had been for a good cause. Probably. It had been so long that Deadhead had kind of forgotten what the whole point of the war had been. Something about protecting Germany or something. Yeah, that sounded right.

 

Deadhead felt a warmth in his chest as he continued to sift through memories. He really had enjoyed himself in the war. His only real regret was the fact that he never told his superior about his feelings. He had been going to, really, but before he got the chance he and his war buddy Sebastian had been thrown head first into a nightmare that they now knew as the Administrator. They had been killed by the whole experience with the entity before Deadhead could work up the courage, and after that he had become a member of the Collective, and he couldn't even contact anyone outside the realm, let alone anyone else from their army. Deadhead wasn't too broken up about it though, he learned to accept it. What had happened was just how it was meant to be, he supposed. Besides, he would always have his memories. Memories and fantasies about what might have been.

 

Ah yes, the fantasies. They were certainly something. Although, they were for another time. For now, he just continued reminiscing. He could, and usually did, do this for hours on end. This was the sole reason why Valentines day was his favorite holiday.


	3. Birth

April twentieth was objectively the worst day of the year. At one point it was the best, it was a reason to celebrate. Now though, it was just unpleasant and sad. Brought up bad memories. Well, the memories themselves weren't bad for the most part, but they were painful.

 

April Twentieth was the date of the birthday of one of Deadhead's close friends. Well alright, they hadn't been friends and they hadn't really been any closer than allies, but Deadhead liked to think they had been. Said friend, ally, whatever, was dead now. He'd killed himself during the war, near the end actually. He hadn't had much other choice, he had been going to die anyway, he had been fighting a losing battle. He'd decided that taking his own life was better than letting himself just lose, be killed by the enemy. That was an understandable decision, although it still hurt to think about.

 

This had transpired after Deadhead had already died, or rather been assimilated, so it wasn't like he could have done anything to try and stop it. Even if he had been alive at the time, it wasn't like he could've done much. What would one extra soldier have accomplished anyway? No, there was really no way it could have been prevented, and the Collective member had accepted this a while ago. He had accepted the course of events as just the way things had to be. It still hurt though.

 

Logically, there was no way Deadhead should have known what the date was. There was no way to tell that sort of thing in the Collective realm. He didn't have much explanation for it either, he just kind of knew. He felt it. It was kind of like instinct, an internal calendar or something. Whenever the date struck he'd always just start feeling awful, really upset. Just terrible emotional pain so bad that he could almost swear that it hurt him physically.

 

Well okay, that was kind of an exaggeration. It was now, at least. For the first few years though, it hadn't been. His first, let's say ten or so, April twentieths in the Collective realm had been near unspeakably horrible. He'd just spent them curled up in come remote area of the forest bawling his eyes out. Now, if you knew Deadhead, then you knew that he pretty much never cried. It just wasn't a thing he did, mostly because nothing really upset him enough to trigger an emotional response, and even when something did, for the most part he was able to keep his emotions in check. That had been the first sign that this was some serious shit.

 

As the years passed though, it got easier, in a way. Not any better mind you, just somewhat easier. He was probably just getting used to it. Considering it was an annual thing, it made sense that he'd adjust to it at some point. He'd come to expect the sudden influx of negative emotions. He'd grown accustomed to feeling completely miserable one day a year, it had gradually stopped affecting him as much. He'd actually started looking forward to it in a way.

 

Not that he enjoyed it of course, the day was still very much an atrocious experience for him. It was just that this was one of the only days in the year where he got to properly remember his fallen friend. He thought about the guy nearly every day, but he never really sat to really think about him on nearly any other day. While this day upset him greatly, it was kind of nice to just be able to remember. Pretty much all of Deadhead's memories about this guy were positive too, so it was almost bittersweet in a way. Although they were painful, a lot of the memories made him smile. He would honestly give just about anything to experience them again.

 

Deadhead currently was alone, as per usual, doing exactly what he normally did on this day. He'd just gotten past the whole 'i should have been there, i could have helped him' line of thought, as well as the wave of guilt that came with it, and was now thinking more positively. Kind of. He was at least on a less negative line of thought now. He'd just started sifting through his memories actually, and was actually kind of enjoying himself.

 

He thought back to the first time he became aware of this person, then to when they'd first met, then to their first actual interaction, as well as a decent amount of other things. He actually had hardly ever interacted with this person he'd considered a friend, so he didn't have many memories in that regard, but he didn't need to. The guy had made himself prominent enough in Deadhead's life for them to not need interaction. Plus, he had been a pretty busy guy, so it wasn't like he had time for the whole interacting thing anyway. That had been fine with Deadhead at the time, and he was still fine with it now. He understood.

 

There were a lot of memories just generally about the things this guy did. A lot of his actions had been considered 'violent' or 'extreme' and such, and on some level Deadhead could see where the people who said that were coming from, but they just didn't understand. All of the things this guy had done were necessary, they'd been for a good cause. Sometimes the sort of action that had taken place was needed. Deadhead honestly respected him for having been the one to rise to the occasion. Sure, in the end he'd lost, but he tried and he did accomplish a lot, and that was admirable, at least in Deadhead's mind.

 

Come to think of it, Deadhead looked up to this guy a lot, like a whole hell of hell of a lot. More than he really looked up to anyone else. Probably even more than the Admin, in all honesty. He really probably had valued this guy more than he had himself. This wasn't too surprising of a revelation, he'd figured it out before he died. You kind of had to have that kind of mindset during a war, at least in Deadhead's experience. It gave you something to fight for.

 

He wasn't really sure, but Deadhead was starting to think that he'd go as far as to say that he loved the guy. It was kind of a stretch, but the more he thought about it the more it made sense. The guy's presence had always brightened his mood and warmed his heart, and thinking about him still had that same effect. He'd always looked up to him more than anyone and thought the world of him. He'd always been willing to sacrifice his life for him, honestly still would if it would bring him back.

 

Looking at the evidence, there was only one conclusion he could draw. It was one that he really didn't mind, honestly after reaching said conclusion he felt better. Happier. The conclusion? Deadhead was madly in love with Adolf Hitler.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case it wasn't clear, this was originally written on 4/20


	4. Worship

Deadhead was currently down on one knee, head bowed downwards much like a knight would bow to their king. Normally in the presence of his proclaimed king, he'd be standing and saluting, but he felt like more was in order for some reason, like he should do more. He wanted his king, fuck man, his god to know the full extent of how appreciated and admired he was, and since Deadhead couldn't express these feelings with words, this was the best he could do. He wasn't even looking up, his gaze was fixed firmly on the ground, he could hear the person he revered approaching. Approaching slowly, almost agonizingly slowly. He wanted more than anything to look up, to just get a glimpse of this person, but he didn't dare, he would look only when he was told that it was okay for him to look.

He was pretty sure that most who served under this articular person didn't admire him nearly as much as Deadhead did, in fact he was almost completely sure of this. Sure, a lot of people looked up to him, and for good reason, and looked to him for advice and guidance, but the amount of people who cared for him this deeply was quite low. Deadhead liked to think that he was the one who cared the most, who had the highest amount of admiration out of everyone else, but if the big man himself were to dispute this, he sure as hell wouldn't argue. To be fair, he likely wouldn't argue with anything this person said, he followed the guy's words much like regular people followed the words of whatever god they believed in. On some level, Deadhead knew that this level of reverence wasn't normal, and definitely wasn't healthy, but he couldn't really be bothered to give a damn. Why should he care about whether or not it was good for him? As long as the Fuhrer was pleased with him, that was enough for him to be happy.

He really hoped that he'd done good enough to be deserving of praise, he'd done his best, and he continued to do so every day. There really wasn't much he could do in his position, permanently enslaved by an Eldritch being from god knows which crevice of hell, stuck in this thing's realm almost all the time except for when he needed to do work for it. He couldn't do much of anything except stay true to his faith and beliefs, which for all he knew might not be nearly enough. After all, it wasn't like he had taken any sort of action, he couldn't really act on his beliefs at all. He couldn't do anything for his country, he couldn't do anything to preserve his race, he couldn't bring any harm on the people he was technically supposed to, the people who were deserving of death, who believed wrong or had been born wrong. Really, he was effectively useless. Even the watered down new age modern Nazis did more than him, and the most a lot of them did was scream on the internet about their beliefs, maybe organize a march or two. At least they were trying to spread the philosophy and get more people in on it, which was a hell of a lot more than Deadhead could do.

He suddenly felt the urge to shrink back, feeling particularly inferior. He ignored this the best he could, any sign of weakness at this point would just make him seem even worse.

Was he shaking? Probably. As soon as he noticed it he tried to put a stop to it. He was only partially successful, suddenly very aware of just how nervous he was. He was able to calm it down to a small bit of trembling, which was good enough he supposed. This did nothing for his heart though, which was practically beating out of his chest, not unlike that of a rodent being hunted by a predator. He was actually kind of...terrified? He wasn't really sure what he expected to happen, or what he was so afraid of, but he was really scared, and very acutely aware of it. Maybe it was the fear of rejection, if this person rejected him and deemed him unworthy, then he really wouldn't have much of anything left. Maybe he thought that he'd get hurt, although he wasn't sure why he would be scared of that. If this person hurt him, then he really wouldn't mind, if anything he'd deserve it, and he shouldn't be fearful of deserved punishments.

At the very least he was able to keep his breathing even, and that much he was grateful for. The footsteps were drawing even closer, he could tell that they weren't too far apart now. He decided now was a good time to brace himself for whatever he was in store for. Hope for the best, prepare for the worst. Quite honestly, he kind of expected the worst, whatever that would be. He didn't see much reason to expect anything good to come from this. What reason did he have to not get the bad end of the stick here? He hadn't done any good in over a century.

He was so focused on keeping himself in line that he hardly noticed when the footsteps stopped. He started focusing on his surroundings again and saw two distinctive boots right in front of his eyes. That was still the extent of how far up he looked, waiting for whatever was to happen.

He was startled by a hand resting atop his hooded head, it took a lot of willpower not to flinch away, and an equal amount to not lean into the touch. Almost all of his effort was focused on staying still as he could. The hand moved from his head down to under his chin, tilting his head upwards. He didn't resist, even if he wanted to he wouldn't dare.

He was really confused. Whatever this was, it was much better than what he'd expected. If it weren't for the mix of emotions right now, this would actually be rather pleasant. This was more contact than he'd ever expected, definitely more than he deserved, this was the kind of shit that he dreamed about. He couldn't tell if it would stay like this though, or if things were to get violent soon.

It took a moment for him to work up the nerve, but eventually he let himself actually look directly at Hitler. With the amount of hesitation, one would think he was looking at the sun or something. As far as he was concerned, what he was looking at was greater than the sun, and the stars, the entire galaxy itself.

Their eyes met, and to Deadhead's surprise, Hitler didn't look angry or upset at all. He had the usual cold and stern aura about him, but he didn't look particularly displeased.

The hand moved down to Deadhead's collar, which was grabbed and tugged upward. Deadhead wasn't an idiot, he knew that this was a command for him to stand. Or rather a suggestion, but as far as he was concerned any suggestion or request was to be treated as a demand. He did as he was told, standing on shaking legs. Although he was a decent amount taller, he still felt incredibly small.

Hands moved from Deadhead's collar to his shoulders, they stayed there, just resting. Deadhead for one was pretty sure it was a miracle he hadn't started panicking. He'd never been this close before. He'd honestly felt less fear during beatings from the Administrator. He still didn't know what to expect, things seemed to be going good so far, but he couldn't be sure how long that would last.

Then the last thing he expected. Hitler smiled at him, it was small, but it was certainly there. Deadhead wanted to return the gesture, but on account of his face being a skull and everything, that was kind of hard to do. He was sure that his feelings were conveyed well enough anyway.

Then he was pulled close, in a sort of hug. Deadhead really didn't understand why this was happening, but he definitely wasn't going to complain. This gesture he could return, albeit shakily and a bit hesitantly, but he did it.

They stayed like that for a while, the longer they did the more relaxed Deadhead gradually became. He wasn't sure how long it took, but eventually he was almost completely calm. His heart was still kind of hammering, but the excessive nervousness and fear from before was gone, for the most part.

He tried to figure out why exactly this was happening though. He was most definitely not upset about it, but he was still somewhat confused as to why.

Perhaps this meant that he was actually being accepted, despite what he saw as his objective uselessness. Even though he could do virtually nothing, somehow he'd done enough, and he'd pleased his Fuhrer.

This thought was really nice, and actually made him quite happy. He decided to believe this, pulling himself closer to his king.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure whether to be proud or ashamed of this one, honestly  
> Poor Deadhead though, let's be real, this was probably a dream


	5. Hitler Is Love, Hitler Is Life

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I know this meme is deader than Hitler himself, but like,, I couldn't just pass up the opportunity to write this when I got the idea

I was about 30 years old  
I loved Hitler so much, I had lots of merchandise and a mint condition copy of Mein Kampf  
I pray to Hitler every night before bed, thanking him for the life I'd been given  
"Hitler is love" I'd say "Hitler is life"  
Sebastian hears me and calls me a faggot  
I know he's just jealous of my devotion to the Fuhrer  
I called him a Commie  
He slaps me and sends me to go to sleep  
I'm crying now, and my face hurts  
I lay in bed and it's really cold  
A warmth is moving towards me  
I feel something touch me  
It's Hitler  
I am so happy  
He whispers into my ear "This is my camp now"  
He grabs me with his powerful leader hands and puts me on my hands and knees  
I'm Ready  
I spread my ass cheeks for Hitler  
He penetrates my butthole  
It hurts so much, but I do it for Hitler  
I can feel my butt tearing as my eyes start to water  
I push against his force  
I want to please Hitler  
He Siegs a mighty Heil as he fills my butt with his love  
Sebastian walks in  
Hitler looks him straight in the eye and says "It's Alt-Right now"  
Hitler leaves through my window  
Hitler is love, Hitler is life


	6. Attachment

A lot of people had something in their life they were particularly attached to, more so than everything else. It could be an object or a person, either way it wasn't too unusual of a thing to have.

For some people that attachment ended up getting to the point where it was more of an obsession, rather than just being strongly connected and being comforted by whatever it was, they compulsively indulged in it, really hated having to be away from it. This was a it less common, but still socially acceptable, at least for the most part.

In really rare cases though, that obsession with whatever thing it was that the person had would grow into something even more, a type of outright dependency. It was hard, sometimes damn near impossible, to function without their object of adoration, if it was removed they'd end up either shutting down or having a breakdown, they couldn't see themselves without it, they absolutely needed it.

In Deadhead's case, he was number three, although he didn't like to acknowledge that he was that far down on the scale, and usually considered himself option number two instead. Although, to be fair, you couldn't tell that he had problems with any of these things at first glance, he did a fairly good job at hiding it. He tried not to flaunt it around and took precautions to make sure it wasn't too obvious.

This was mostly because he was somewhat ashamed of it, honestly. It made him feel weaker than he liked to perceive himself as. More than that, he also really didn't like the thought of others knowing about this, especially with how bad it really was. He liked to think that to others he seemed fairly collected and in control, and if they saw the extent of his attachment then that perception would be shattered.

So, what exactly was Deadhead so dependent on, so attached to that he could hardly stand the thought of not having it with him?

Well, it was a little book, one by the name of Mein Kampf.

At first it would seem pretty stupid to be so attached to something like that, but to Deadhead it made perfect sense. Of course, on some level he knew that what he was so connected to was just a bunch of paper that could be replaced fairly easily, but he could never actually admit that to himself, it just felt like a lot more than that. If he were to ever need to replace it, it just wouldn't be the same, the copy he had was the one from when he was still alive, one of the last actual connections he had to that point of his life. Sure, he could get a new one, but he didn't want one, even if he were to lose the one he had he wouldn't, he needed this one.

He needed it so much that it was almost always on his person, he only parted with it when he slept, and sometimes not even then. If he wasn't reading it then it was in his hoodie pocket, which he often rested his hands in just to make sure it was still there.

He also read it a lot, as in at least a few pages a day. With how long he'd been doing this, he wouldn't be surprised if he had it memorized, hell he could probably recite it from beginning to end without even having to look inside. Still, despite this he continued to read it when he could, it was a strong source of comfort for him, even though he knew nearly every detail about what was written, being able to read what was written helped him in ways he wasn't quite sure how to explain. If he was feeling particularly bad, he could be soothed by flipping through a few pages, and on the rare occasions where he was feeling too bad to be able to focus on the words, he liked to just run his hand along the cover, take in the image on it.

As was previously mentioned, he hated even thinking about losing it, or having it taken from him. Sometimes he tried to think of ways he could help himself stay calm in one of those events, but that was the extent of it, and it wasn't very often. He'd only lost it once before, and it had really not been pretty. Really, it wasn't even lost technically, just misplaced, but in his panic he hadn't bothered actually looking where it was, and it had turned out to be in a pretty obvious spot too.

In the end he'd had to get Swain to help him find it, and honestly having his friend there was probably the only thing keeping him from completely losing it. It was certainly not one of his proudest moments, luckily for him though it had been stopped from escalating into something worse.

One of the other reasons it was so important to him, was that it was the only direct link to the Fuhrer he had. Everything in the book were things Adolf himself had written, and reading them was the closest he'd get to ever actually seeing or hearing him again.

You see, he'd always felt a certain connection to the Fuhrer, perhaps a bit too strong of one. He couldn't help it though, he just really respected and adored the man who had run his country, and if these feelings went a bit too deep, who cared? It's not like he ever acted on them, if he had ever tried he likely would have been killed immediately, which would probably be deserved.

Still, when he read the book, it made him almost feel like they knew each other, or at least like Deadhead knew him, which was something he hadn't really been able to experience when he'd been alive.

This made it easier to think about what it might have been like if they had known each other, the book contained plenty of information that let him know how to get on the world leader's good side, which made it easier to think about them forming a hypothetical friendship.

He often pictured the words of the book in Adolf's voice too, at least as well as he could remember it. This made reading it that much more soothing, he'd always though that his Fuhrers voice was pretty relaxing after all.

There was no way he could ever let anyone else know any of this though. He didn't care too much if he was judged, but for some reason he still really didn't want to know how they'd react. Maybe he cared more about judgement than he thought, or maybe he was scared that someone would use their knowledge of this to cause harm to him, by causing harm to the book. Whatever the reason, he definitely wasn't going to let them know anytime soon.

Some logical part of him felt like this was something he should try to stop, he knew full well that it wasn't healthy, and he'd be far better off if he wasn't this dependent on something that in reality was just an object. In his mind though, going about the process of trying to fix this would be more trouble than it would be worth. It would cause him much stress and distress, which would be nearly impossible to deal with without his main coping mechanism, which was the book. It just would be too much pain than it would be worth.

That, and he was happy like this. This worked for him, and brought him joy, so surely the positives outweighed the negatives here, right?

He assumed they did anyway, and since he didn't plan on finding out, he was content with that assumption. He was perfectly fine continuing what he was doing. This way he got to feel some sort of connection with the man he practically deified, and although it wasn't exactly real, that was one of the things he'd wanted more than anything when he'd been alive, so he was going to take what he could get.


	7. Special Gift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A Valentine's Day special, containing some headcanons that I know will be disproved once Sebastian's Journal is released

Henka, or Deadhead as he would come to be known as in the future, didn't plan to become part of the inner circle. He hadn't even considered it a possibility before it happened. When he'd first joined the army he hadn't expected to play a very significant role at all really, there were more soldiers than one could even count, so why should he expect to be regarded as someone special?

He was probably one of the least remarkable people there, honestly. He'd joined of his own volition, due to an intense passion for his country, much like nearly everyone else there. He was a pretty big nationalist, but then again so was everyone else in his line of work, you kind of had to be. He was nothing more than just another face in the crowd of soldiers, and he was fine with that. As long as he was playing some sort of part to help his country, then he didn't need any sort of special recognition or anything.

Apparently, his assumptions about himself were wrong though. He ended up learning this the hard way, which luckily wasn't unpleasant as well, but rather more unexpected than anything.

One day, he'd been lucky enough to meet the Führer in person. It wasn't at a public event where he was making his presence known either, one where he'd end up meeting a multitude of people. It was in public, but it wasn't anything special. You see, there had been a movie that had come out recently, they both happened to go see it on the same night. They also happened to be sitting in very close proximity to each other, close enough that if one wanted to converse with the other, they easily could.

At first, Henka had no intentions of trying to speak with the Führer. As excited as he was to be able to sit next to him, he didn't want to be obnoxious. Hitler hadn't come there to socialize, and surely he'd enjoy himself much more if he didn't have someone trying to talk to him while he was trying to concentrate on the movie.

Somehow though, they did end up speaking. Hitler spoke first, commenting on something that had happened in what they were watching. Henka responded, and although at first he'd been extremely nervous, unsure of whether or not it was what he should have done, this led to them talking more, exchanging a few words back and forth, and the next thing they knew they'd talked throughout the whole rest of the movie.

Apparently that interaction had been enough for Hitler to decide that Henka was someone he liked, and after that they ended up speaking numerous times, until eventually they ended up almost as close as Henka was to Sebastian.

Them growing this close was gradual, of course, it took years for their relationship to progress to such a point. Although to the starstruck soldier it felt like a blur. It felt a lot like a dream, actually. In fact, even as he was meeting some of the others in the inner circle, it almost didn't feel real. It felt real enough for him to know that he really didn't care for any of the others in said circle, but it still felt too good to be true.

He idolized Adolf quite a lot, judging by how his behavior was met, it was apparently more than normal. Apparently, it was considered a bit strange to be this close to the Führer and still refer to him by his title rather than his name. It was a bit peculiar to still be so reluctant to be the one to initiate an interaction after having known each other for so long. It wasn't like he could help it though, it wasn't his fault he still felt so nervous when they were together. At one point he'd even tried to stop this, but no matter what he did, he couldn't get rid of the usual apprehensiveness when it came to their relationship.

At first he'd been kind of concerned over this, after all this never happened with any of his other friendships. Granted, he only had one other close friend, but still. It didn't seem normal that being around Adolf made him so nervous while being around Sebastian didn't. It didn't make sense that he was so easily flustered while he was around Adolf, but was so easily capable of controlling his emotions when he was around literally anyone else. Even stranger was the fact that even talking about Hitler gave him that same vague feeling of nervousness as when they were together. Fuck, even thinking about the guy made him feel weird, not particularly bad, but strange.

He felt like this was a problem, and that surely there was something wrong, but when he thought about it he couldn't figure out what that something was. The longer it went on, it also started to feel more natural. He got used to feeling these things, so they stopped really bothering him too much. In the end, he came to the conclusion that he felt this way because it was the Führer. It would make perfect sense to be more nervous around him than other people, he was the leader of the country after all. It was important to make and maintain a good impression around someone so important, only a fool wouldn't be a bit intimidated.

As it turned out, the conclusion he came to was dead wrong for the most part, but he wouldn't figure that out for a while. He also wouldn't figure it out until it was spelled out for him.

Alright, technically he actually didn't take too long to figure it out, but he was in denial about it for a while. After all, it wasn't something that most of the country would consider morally right, in fact it was something that was technically illegal. Still, once he did end up figuring it out, as much as he tried to deny it, it did cause a lot of things to start making sense. Just one example was why Hitler was on his mind so damn often, even at times where there was no clear reason for it.

He was a lot more cautious after finding out the real reason behind his feelings, he had to be, he couldn't risk being found out. He assumed he did a pretty good job at this, since no one ever questioned him or anything. If he was acting strangely, then any outsiders must have chalked it up to regular admiration.

For a while, he was pretty sure he was going to take his feelings to the grave, which was what he hoped for. He was sure that by the time he was gone, that nobody would have figured out what he was feeling. At least, what he was fairly certain that he was feeling.

When this assumption was disproved, it was probably the only time in his life when he was glad about being proven wrong.

The day when this had happened had started off average enough, after doing his regular morning routine and such, he'd been called to meet with the Führer. Of course, this made him rather happy, he was always glad when they got to spend time together.

What he'd been called for hadn't been anything too special really, at least not extravagantly so. The two of them ended up spending the day together, which wasn't too unusual. This time though, it was only the two of them, because Adolf had been smart and had them meet up somewhere rather secluded, they didn't get bothered by anyone else. Not even the usual guard that normally went in public with the Führer was there, it really was just the two of them.

Aside from that, it wasn't anything too wild though. They spent the earlier hours of the day at the park, and once afternoon started setting in they moved to Hitler's current office. Most of their time was spent just talking, apparently despite Henka's excessive nervousness conversation came to them quite naturally.

Around the evening, when the sun was starting to go down and the two of them had to return home, before they parted ways, Adolf decided to give him a gift.

It was a copy of Mein Kampf, which was something that he already had, but this one looked a bit different. The cover was different than the one he had, in a good way, it looked a bit fancier.

He was going to open it to flip through the pages and such, but a hand on his own stopped him. Hitler told him to not open it until he was home, by himself. He also assured Henka that it would be worth it.

This, of course, enticed him quite a bit. He wondered what could be so different about the inside that would warrant that sort of request.

Needless to say, once he did get home he wasted no time figuring this out, and apparently the reason behind it was more subtle than he'd expected. The writing inside seemed generally the same, apparently it was a hand written copy, which made it feel a lot more special, but aside from that it was mostly the same.

The real reason he had been requested to wait to open it wasn't that though, but it was due to a small note that was inside, on the inner part of the front cover. Upon reading it, he concluded that it was definitely not something that he would want to read in public.

"Dear Henka, you have always been not only one of my most loyal soldiers, but one of my best friends as well, and you can't understand how much that means to me. The connection I feel with you is stronger than what I feel with anyone else, and I can tell you feel the same way, you're not as good at hiding it as you might think. Your attempts are really cute though. I would love to be able to grow even closer, if you would allow it, I believe you would be a more ideal partner than anyone else I've ever dated. If you don't wish to enter this sort of relationship, then just return this book to me next time we meet. If you do, then I look forward to seeing what type of experience you have, both romantic and otherwise."

After reading that, Henka's face was burning, and after he got past the initial panic of realizing that the Führer knew about how he felt, he decided that he definitely wanted to take him up on this offer. He wasn't sure how they'd hide their relationship, or anything of the sort, but he knew this was something that they both wanted, and that was enough for him.

That night he slept with the book clutched to his chest, thinking about what might happen next time they got to meet.


	8. Assimilation

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple months ago I managed to get a friend of mine to unfollow me b/c I mentioned the idea of Collective Member Hitler. So, of course, instead of shutting the fuck up about it I decided to write an entire thing based off of it. Happy Hitler Day, y'all

When midway into the war, two of Adolf's soldiers had disappeared without a trace, he hadn't thought too much of it. He figured they'd been captured by enemy forces, and while he did want to get them back, there was no way of knowing who exactly had taken them. They had been searched for, and ultimately no signs of them were found, not even any signs of capture.

While that had been strange, he couldn't afford to think too much on it. After all, there were many reasons and potential explanations. That and it was only two men, and as much as he valued their work, he couldn't afford to put too much time into trying to find them. He had a lot to focus on after all if he wanted any chance of winning this war.

Little did he know then, his chances of winning had already been taken from him. This was something he'd find out in the years to come, and the cause of this was something far from what he would have expected.

At first he thought he was going crazy when he started seeing things, as any rational person would. These things ranged from a tall, faceless man among the trees to a grinning shadow, cackling at his expense. There were other figures too, sometimes he dreamed about them as well as seeing them in the waking world.

He never brought up seeing these things with anyone else, he couldn't let people know that their Fuhrer was going mad. He instead attempted to handle things himself. For a while that worked out alright, for the most part.

Problems started arising when he realized that these things could actually physically harm him. He had kind of suspected this from some of the symptoms he got from being around the tall thing so much, but they weren't confirmed for him until he had a close encounter with it.

It had showed up near him while he was out in one of the more secluded areas of the town he had been staying in. As much as it had startled him, he figured that it wasn't real, so he should be fine.

As it turned out, this assumption was entirely incorrect. He ended up getting closer to it, since it was in his way, and upon getting a certain distance from it, he found that he was in horrible pain. There was an awful ringing in his head, which resulted in pain throughout his entire body.

The ringing wasn't new, sometimes that just happened, along with some other things. This amount of pain coming with it was unfamiliar to him though. Luckily, he only had to deal with it for a few moments before it caused him to black out.

When he awoke he was back in his home. Upon going about his daily routine, he found that he'd apparently been gone for two whole days. While that didn't seem right to him, he only felt like he'd been passed out for a few hours at most, this proved that what he was dealing with was something serious.

As one could expect, things only got worse from this point on. Between his refusal to let anyone else know about what was happening and his inability to really do anything to try and prevent these things from getting to him due to his duties, there was plenty of opportunity for everything to go to shit.

After seeing and experiencing these things for so long, his mental health only got worse. This ended up altering how well he could lead. Apparently, he seriously fucked up at some points, because eventually he did end up losing, as well as have much of the rest of the world against him.

At some point it became clear that there was nothing he could do, all hope was lost. He was stuck in Berlin, which was being bombed, as well as closed in on. He and some of his more trusted men were stuck in a bunker and they all knew that eventually everything that was happening was going to catch up to them, and one way or another they were going to die.

In the end, Adolf ended up killing himself, alongside his wife. He figured that would be better than letting them get him. The last thing he saw before dying was the tall man.

Apparently, he wasn't allowed to stay dead. He wasn't sure how much time passed, but at one point he woke up. He wasn't in the bunker anymore though.

He wasn't sure exactly where he was. A boardwalk that seemed to go on forever in a forest that surrounded it at every angle. Everything about this place felt off, wrong. He decided to follow the path he was given anyway.

As he moved he became acutely aware of one thing. While he wasn't dead, he really should have been. He could feel something on his head, upon checking that something was apparently fresh blood. As it turned out, the bullet wound that had killed him was still very much there, and very much open. He could taste the blood too. It wasn't pleasant.

He wasn't sure how long he was wandering around this place, it could have been minutes or it could have been days. Eventually he did find someone. He wasn't sure if he was happy about this or not.

This someone had a skull for a face, which was intimidating enough. The rest of them could have easily been bones too, but between their thick hoodie, the gloves covering their hands and the rest of their clothes, it was impossible to tell. Adolf didn't really want to know anyway.

He was actually lucky they hadn't spotted him, they seemed rather distracted. They were reading something and somehow they were engrossed enough in it that they didn't notice the other person near them. As far as Adolf was concerned that was a good thing, that made it easier for him to leave without being noticed and-

Wait a minute. This person, if they could still be called that, wasn't reading just anything. Upon closer inspection, the book in their hands was none other than Mein Kampf.

Adolf had to stop and think after seeing that. He reasoned with himself a bit.

If there was no way out of here, which seemed extremely likely from what he'd seen so far, then depending on how many others were here, he was bound to run into someone else eventually. That someone else might not be nearly as friendly. Not that he knew whether or not this person would be, but someone who was actively reading his book seemed more trustworthy than any other possibilities for people he could think of.

So, after some debate, he decided that he may as well try to speak to this person. If it didn't go well, it wasn't like things could get much worse for him anyway.

Apparently this was a good call. Upon seeing him, the person greeted him with an enthusiastic 'mein fuhrer' and was more than happy to help him out.

The person introduced himself as Deadhead, and Adolf wouldn't realize his significance until later.

Deadhead helped him with a lot of things, first and foremost understanding what exactly his current situation was.

The situation was pretty complicated. Apparently, the thing that had been stalking and tormenting him for most of the later years of his life did that sort of thing to a lot of people. Some of the people it did this to were lucky enough to be chosen by it to be assimilated into its cult, usually but not always after the person was dead.

There were apparently seven other prominent members of this cult that weren't Adolf, one of which was Deadhead, of course.

Apparently every Collective member had a name different from their actual one, a title and a chess piece that represented them. It seemed kind of complicated, but Adolf wasn't one to question it after everything else that he'd experienced.

Deadhead was the black knight, and his title was the Nationalist. The other pieces consisted of the Lover, who was the white knight, the Burdened who was the white rook, the Sentinel who was the black rook, the Selfish who was the white queen, the Hermit who was the white Bishop, the Stubborn who was the white king, and of course the Administrator, who was the black king.

And Adolf, he was apparently the Chancellor, and his chess piece was the black bishop.

He also got to learn why this group had to exist in the first place. According to Deadhead, who was the only one Hitler really felt like he could trust, they were after a very important journal. One that had something detrimentally crucial inside, something that the Admin needed. Adolf didn't see why it had to drag this many people into this mess to get one journal, but honestly he didn't care too much.

At some point down the line, Adolf learned a very crucial detail about Deadhead. That detail being that apparently, he was Henka Visae, one of the soldiers that had went missing before things started going to shit.

Part of him was confused as to why it took so long for this information to be given to him, but he also supposed that there had been a lot going on the whole time he'd been in the Collective, and he had a lot to try and learn and memorize. There wasn't exactly much time or opportunity for Deadhead to just slip that bit of information in there.

Still, upon learning that, a lot was explained and a lot about his situation made much more sense.

Actually, considering the nature of the thing that had tormented him, that explained just about everything he'd wanted to know.

Apparently the Lover was the other soldier that had disappeared all those years ago, which just made everything make that much more sense.

When Deadhead first told Adolf his true identity, he apologized for dragging the Fuhrer into this mess in the first place. It seemed that he felt responsible for the mess they were in, felt bad for spreading this to Hitler.

He ended up apologizing for this semi-frequently. Every time he did, Adolf was always more than willing to let him know that it wasn't his fault, and even if it somehow was that it wasn't something he should feel sorry for, since he didn't choose to make this happen, and other similar reassurances. Most people would likely get annoyed at someone being this frequently and vocally apologetic, but honestly Hitler didn't mind. He actually found it kind of endearing, and cute in a way, he supposed.

Speaking of Deadhead, it didn't take long for him to become Hitler's new closest friend. Or, maybe it did take a while, time in the Collective realm was very strange. The point is, they very easily got to be extremely close.

Whenever one of them wasn't busy with some shit the Admin had them do, they were more likely than not together.

Deadhead was always more than happy to be around him, nearly always seemed giddy and starstruck. Considering he had previously been a soldier, that was kind of to be expected for a while. After all, it wasn't every day you got to spend quality time with the Fuhrer. Except, for Deadhead it literally was, but that's beside the point.

Seeing his friend so happy made Hitler happy. Other people being happy was just generally nice, especially if they were someone you were close with. That's something that he'd believed even before they'd met. He also felt like any positive emotion was that much more precious, given their current predicament. After all, they were actually slaves, in the most basic and literal sense of the word. If they didn't have something to keep their spirits high somehow, they'd likely go mad.

For Adolf, Deadhead was the only thing he had to do that. He was, and would likely always remain, the only person the Chancellor could trust, so seeking comfort in someone else was out of the question. Everything else he'd had to help him before was gone, and had been since he'd died, and there weren't exactly any viable replacements in the Collective realm.

So, the black knight really was all he had. He felt like Deadhead felt a similar way about him.

He doubted Deadhead knew how important he was though, which was somewhat saddening. There wasn't much that could be done about it though, and as long as he wasn't beating himself down then Adolf wasn't going to try and force him to understand.

The important thing is that Adolf knew, and thus he could treat Deadhead with the kindness and respect he deserved.

Adolf actually really looked up to him, in a way. After all, he'd been in this fucking place since years before the war ended, and he'd had to deal with the Admin for even longer. It would have been so easy for him to give up, to turn cold and uncaring and cruel, but he didn't. Well, for the most part. While he was hardened a bit, he was still what Adolf would consider a good person, a caring person, and as far as he was concerned that was pretty admirable.

Deadhead was actually probably his ideal person, what he aspired to be in a way. He was strong, but not cruel. Open, but not naive. Caring and kind, but only to those who deserved it.

Adolf wanted to make sure his friend stayed like this for as long as possible. Simply put, he wanted to protect him, and keep him on the right path. Prevent anything from damaging him or harming him badly enough to influence him.

The easiest way to do this was to stick by him, and make sure that he didn't do anything to elicit the Admin's wrath. At this point, it was the thing that was the most dangerous to them. Not to mention that its punishments were ridiculously cruel, so for all he knew they could be one punishment away from being separated forever.

These were tasks that he was more than happy to do. They were actually very enjoyable, they were things that he would do regardless.

In a way, Deadhead was doing the same for him, he supposed. They looked out for each other, made sure each other stayed safe. It was the least they both could do. After all, if they didn't, then who else would?

Plus, looking out for each other so much gave them more of an excuse to spend more time together, which was an amazing bonus.

So, they were more than happy to keep doing this. This was the best thing to do with their current situation, and the best way to make it through this. The only way, as far as Adolf was concerned, and he was going to do whatever he could to make sure they could do this for as long as possible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know how coherent this is honestly. It took like a week to write and I feel like proof-reading would make me sad, so,,, take it how it is


	9. Jealousy

When the Führer had first suggested getting a girlfriend, Henka thought it was a wonderful idea. One of the best ideas Hitler had come up with, in fact.

It was a very smart ploy, to help further cover up their relationship. If people saw him being close and friendly with a woman in public, nobody would dare suspect that he might be hiding some sort of homosexual love life. The very idea would seem absurd, it was genius.

That's not to say that Henka was looking forward to seeing him with someone else, he was just looking forward to not having to worry as much. Not having to be as cautious about not getting caught.

They would still be careful, of course. They would have to be fools to think that this would mean they could just throw caution to the wind. This would just make it so that they could rest a bit easier is all, which would be much appreciated.

There was no way they could let whoever the woman ended up being know about the true reason she was picked for the Führer's affections. In fact, whoever they ended up with likely wouldn't even know that Henka existed, let know enough to have any sort of suspicions.

Sure, this did count as leading someone on, and also using them. Adolf had expressed his distaste with those particular things, and wasn't happy about having to do them. What other choice did they have though? Anything else they could do to hide their relationship had already been done, and they just couldn't risk letting whoever was chosen know. Even though she most likely wouldn't be believed if she told anyone, it just wasn't a risk worth taking.

So, they decided that being a bit deceptive was worth the added safety.

Adolf informed his partner when he'd found the right woman. He described her, as well as details about how their first meeting had went.

Henka was glad that they had been able to settle this. Not that it was hard, any girl in the country would've been more than happy to date Hitler. Finding the right one had been easier than he'd suspected though, which was nice.

He couldn't help but get a bit hung up on some of the words that were being used to describe this Eva, though. Words like 'beautiful' and 'charming' were being used by the Führer, and they sounded rather sincere too. He found himself thinking that it seemed kind of like Adolf actually liked her. These thoughts caused mingled fear and sadness to start welling up in him.

He pushed these feelings away almost as soon as he noticed them though. He was being irrational. Of course the person picked was someone Adolf actually liked, it would be preposterous to expect him to decide to do something like this with someone he didn't at least enjoy the company of. It also seemed fair that he got to pick someone he could at least form a real friendship with, even if the romantic feelings would remain one sided.

He decided that this was a totally fair assessment, and that he needed to stop his worrying at once. In fact, he stopped even thinking about the worry and engaged himself back into conversation with his partner.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------

As time passed, he found himself dwelling on these worries more and more. He tried not to, he tried to keep them firmly locked away, but sometimes he just couldn't stop it.

He knew how irrational it was, but knowing didn't really make it any easier for him to stop.

As much as they enjoyed themselves when they were together, and as often as he heard the Führer profess his love for him, that didn't prevent him from having these thoughts.

Yes, he knew that Hitler loved him, and cherished their time together, that much was obvious. He couldn't help but wonder though, what if he liked the time he spent with Eva more?

What if the two of them were really warming up to each other, mutually so? What if he was growing bored with his real partner and wanted to start dating Eva for real? What if he was getting sick and tired of having to sneak around just to be with someone he cared about, and was starting to think all that work wasn't worth it?

A vicious cycle of what ifs circled through Henka's mind far more often than he liked. They were easy enough to answer and dismiss the first few times around, but the more they showed up, the more he found himself doubting his answers to them and really thinking about the scenarios they presented.

It had been going on long enough that he was quite literally making himself sick with worry.

He knew that the logical thing to do would be to talk about these things with his partner, so that he could get some assurance that they weren't true. That was what you were supposed to do in relationships, talk to each other.

There was no way he was going to do that though. Sure, he knew that Adolf likely would have no problem helping him out with this, he was just far too scared to actually do it.

He was the one having the thoughts and the doubts, and even he knew they were stupid. So, that could only mean that anyone else who heard them, including his lovely and enchanting boyfriend, would only find them even more so. Having to work through them would probably end up being annoying and aggravating. They weren't even really worth Adolf's time, quite frankly.

Besides, even if his partner ended up being more than happy to help and reassure him, he didn't want to be too high maintenance. Even though wanting assurance was probably a reasonable request, he knew that if he was too needy and clingy that he would only succeed in pushing the two of them apart, and driving the Führer away. Nobody liked being around someone so demanding, after all.

So, he ended up keeping the thoughts to himself, and trying to deal with them himself. Dealing with them usually just meant trying to force them away, although occasionally he'd try thinking his way through the logistics of some of them, hoping that if he thought it through enough, he'd convince himself that it wasn't worth worrying about. Needless to say, this never really worked.

For a while he would try not to even think about these things around the Führer, since even that seemed too risky. After some time though, he found that he wasn't even able to suppress them when the other was around. So, he just tried not to let the fact that something was on his mind show.

This worked for a short while, but of course it was only a matter of time before Hitler caught on that something was off. When he did, he acted about how you'd expect a mature adult to when they noticed something was bothering their partner. That is to say, he approached the subject with care.

He asked, gently, if anything was wrong, and he assured that Henka could talk to him about anything. The reaction he got startled them both.

Henka, unable to deny or push back any of his emotions anymore, was confronted with basically all of them rushing forth at once, and he found himself crying. He tried to stop it, but it was no use. Instead, after giving up on that, he turned away and began to apologize.

At first it was just for the tears, but he ended up letting everything out. He figured he may as well, no point in hiding anything after this.

So, he let all of his qualms be known. He detailed the fears he'd been having, and the doubt he'd been struggling with. He apologized after just about every admission, still feeling horrible about thinking like this in the first place, and feeling even worse about making these things be heard.

Adolf reacted...much better than he'd expected, actually, and certainly far better than he'd hoped.

He ended up pulling Henka close and holding him through it, listening to every bit and only interrupting to offer words of comfort. He didn't dare add any of his own input until he'd heard it all.

Once it was done though, once his partner had finished speaking and was just clinging to him and trying to stop his tears, then he started gathering his words.

"I'm so sorry." He muttered, tangling his hand in the other's hair. It only seemed right that he apologize too, it was technically his fault they were in this mess.

He felt Henka tense at this, and it was obvious he wanted to protest, but he wasn't about to interrupt his Führer.

"We really should have talked about this sooner, I feel just awful about letting you work yourself up like this."

"It's not your fault, I'm the one who refused to bring it up until now." Henka apparently changed his mind and decided that it was his turn to speak.

"Maybe so, but we've been together for a while now. I should be able to read you and know when something is bothering you before it gets this bad."

He had no response to that, he knew nothing he said would change Adolf's mind. So instead, he responded with something else. "So, does this mean that my assumptions weren't right?"

His voice was so small, and still a little bit fearful, as if he still thought there was a chance that his doubts could be proven right. Adolf couldn't help but hold him a bit tighter. "No, not even close. I still love you just as much as ever, and nobody can change that."

His boyfriend relaxed immensely at that, burying his face farther into the Führer's chest and muttering a quiet 'i love you too'.

"And besides, if I were going to leave you, then there's no way I'd choose her of all people."

That got him a confused look. "But, don't you two really like each other?"

Hitler couldn't stop himself from laughing at that. "Of course not." He gave an admittedly theatrical roll of his eyes. "Not that I hate her or anything, but her personality doesn't come close to competing with her looks, and neither of those attributes on her can compare to yours." He savored the blush that made appear on his partner's face.

"What, um-- Has she done anything in particular, or is she just...lackluster?"

"Well." He actually had to stop and think about that for a moment. "I really don't like how she treats my dog."

Upon hearing that, the look on Henka's face switched to worry and hardly concealed rage. "What has she been doing to Blondi?"

"Nothing that I can prove, I just know that the two of them don't get along." He was most certainly touched at the concern. "Blondi isn't being harmed, it's fine."

His boyfriend relaxed at that, before contemplating what to say next.

Hitler beat him to it, deciding to ditch the topic of Eva. He had a feeling they would both be more than happy to drop it. "That's one thing I love about you, sometimes it seems like you care for her just as much, if not more, than I do."

"Well- She is a very good dog, how could I not?" His attempts to not get flustered at the compliment weren't working.

"Yes, and you're smart enough to see that." Adolf softly cupped Henka's face as he spoke, mostly because he knew that would only make his reactions that much worse. Also so that they could more easily look each other in the eyes. "You're also kind and caring enough to give her the affection she deserves."

They went on like this for quite a while. Hitler listing off things he liked about Henka, drawing all of them out into a proper compliment. He watched as his boyfriend's face got redder with each thing that was said. It was absolutely adorable, which was definitely something Hitler pointed out.

He saw the shy smile and listened to the giddy laughter that escaped his partner, and he was so glad that they had decided to talk. Henka was clearly happier than he had been in ages, this had been exactly what they needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might've put too much work into this, but I've honestly always loved the thought of Deadhead getting all jealous over Eva  
> Also had to kind of include Blondi, because she's best girl. Not even sure if Deadhead would realistically still be alive & non-assimilated by the time Hitler adopted her, but,,, a guy can dream


	10. Morning

Henka awoke to a feeling of comfort and warmth, in a bed that he knew wasn't his. A pair of arms were wrapped around him and his legs were tangled with someone else's.

For a moment he was confused, until memories of the previous night started coming back to him. Once this happened, his heart about stopped, and his face was flooded with heat. He pressed himself closer to his one-night partner, hiding his face against the other man's chest.

This notified his partner, who was apparently already awake. "Well, good morning."

Henka could physically feel himself get more flustered just at the sound of that voice. "And to you too, Mein Fuhrer."

"You know, you can just call me Adolf." Hitler gave the same reminder he'd given multiple times the previous night. They both knew it wasn't going to happen, but the suggestion was still there.

After not getting any response more than a nod, Hitler tangled a hand in the other's hair. "Last night was nice." He could definitely feel Henka leaning into his touch. "Don't you agree?"

"Of course." How could he not? In fact, 'nice' was an understatement. He'd been thinking about doing something like this for years, fantasizing even. He was still having a hard time believing this was real, it seemed too good to be true. How could he be lucky enough to have slept with the man of his dreams so easily? The man who also happened to be the leader of the entire country, a country where in all reality he could have been executed for even thinking about scenarios such as this. Really, every aspect of his current situation was unbelievable.

And yet, here it was actually happening. He remembered the events of the previous night so vividly, it was kind of a blur but it was so undoubtedly real. 

He'd woken up too, and instead of being greeted with the familiar sight of his own room, in a bed too cold to have had anyone but himself in it, they were still together. Not just that, but the Fuhrer had apparently enjoyed himself too. The knowledge that his idol's night had been made better by being in his presence made him that much happier.

"Maybe we could do it again, then?"

It was a gentle suggestion, in fact Hitler even sounded a bit unsure, like he was being careful with his words. He likely was, considering the laws of the country he didn't want to risk getting on the bad side of a man he'd willingly slept with. Not that he didn't have multiple ways to stop controversy from spreading, but one could never be too careful.

Despite the tone of the question, Henka was completely stunned by it. He knew they'd both enjoyed themselves, but to have the possibility of getting to do this again right in front of him was another level of unbelievable. How was he even supposed to respond? Of course he wanted it, more than almost anything else in fact, but he couldn't just say that. The last thing he wanted was to come across as too eager, that would be off-putting and could ruin his chances. There was no way he was going to turn it down though, even though that might be safer for him, he would sooner die than let this opportunity go to waste.

Apparently, he took too long trying to decide on a response, and the Fuhrer was forced to take more initiative.

"We don't _have_ to, though. If you'd rather this be a one time thing, that's perfectly acceptable too."

For a moment Henka was stunned again, this time because of how genuinely nervous the other sounded. He snapped out of this quickly though, realizing he needed to give an answer, and fast. "No, I- I would love to."

"And you really mean that?"

This time, he didn't hesitate with his answer. "Yes, of course- Can we, please?" He cringed a little at how desperate he sounded, hiding his face even further.

"Well, I'm the one who asked you, aren't I?" He sounded relieved, as if he'd really been worried about being turned down.

All Henka could really do was marvel at how lucky he was. Not only did he get to sleep with the Fuhrer once, but there was a chance for him to make it into a somewhat regular occurrence. Sure, his affections leaned more on the romantic side, so a no strings attached sexual relationship might lead to some disappointment down the road, but that was irrelevant. Nearly anyone in Germany would kill for this opportunity, and it was surely the best he was going to get, so he was most definitely happy about it.

They stayed there for a few more minutes, just holding each other and enjoying each other's company, putting off having to get up. Hitler was leisurely running his hand down Henka's back and through his hair, while the other man rested his eyes and curled up against his partner. Eventually one of them interrupted the peace though, that one being Adolf.

"Hey," He lightly shook the other's shoulder. "We both have work later, don't we?"

Of course, at this the future-knight's eyes shot open and he wasted no time sitting up. "Yes, I'm sorry- I should be leaving so that you can get ready." He moved to get out of bed, not wanting to take up any more of the Fuhrer's time.

Hitler didn't want this though, apparently, and grabbed his shoulder. "Actually, I was hoping that we could clean up and get ready together."

Henka experienced another moment of starstruck amazement. He couldn't quite find his voice, so he just gave an enthusiastic nod.

Hitler, though he likely didn't have to, helped him up and guided him in the direction of the bathroom. "And after we're finished I can make sure you have a discreet way home, we can't have anyone asking questions, after all."

He stuck close to the Fuhrer, nodding and muttering a small thanks.

"And of course, we'll have to exchange numbers so we can arrange a time to do this again."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly wanted to write some soft DeadHitler and,,, I don't feel like I succeeded, but y'know what, it's gucci  
> I also don't know if this flows well At All since I wrote it in like 5 different sessions and I don't feel like reading over it to find out. I hope it turned out alright


End file.
